


Bleak Falls

by actualborealis



Category: Original Work
Genre: Magic, Magic-Users, Magical Creatures, Multi, Paranormal, Supernatural Elements, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 07:09:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualborealis/pseuds/actualborealis
Summary: Aspiring author Aurora Fairbairn moves from Edinburgh, Scotland to the tiny town of Bleak Falls, Oregon to finish her novel. Strange happenings, paired with strange individuals, pique her curiosity and send her plunging headfirst into a world (and a history) she never knew existed. Ancient magical bloodlines, creatures that formerly only lived in stories told by the glow of a medieval hearth, and partially buried truths scattered in the unlikeliest of places converge as Aurora begins to learn just who she is and where she belongs.





	Bleak Falls

Deceptively soft storm clouds obscured the sky, hurling thunderous abuse towards the earth and everything on it. Wind picked up helplessly tumbling raindrops and slammed them into every available surface. She could have sworn, however, that it seemed to have something very personal against her poor window panes. As far as weather was concerned, Oregon wasn’t too different from Scotland. At least, Oregon’s rainy season wasn’t too different from Scotland year-round. Even if it got sunnier as the months plodded on, this initial familiarity would at least help to make this place feel more like home.

Unpacking all these gods damned boxes would probably help, too.

Aurora sat back on her knees, wiping her forehead with the back of her sweater sleeve and tucking away gold strands as they stubbornly dropped down into her face. She’d been sorting through boxes for hours. Her body was stiff. Her sanity was questionable. Her only solace was the knowledge that the furniture had been moved in, assembled, and more or less arranged where she wanted it. When she finally abandoned unloading for the night, she could trudge down the hall and fall onto a proper bed rather than a semi-deflated air mattress. She could hardly wait to sink into layers of soft blankets and forget that she'd barely made a dent in putting away anything beyond the bare essentials. Checking her phone for the time, she realized she’d been at this for a solid nine hours. It was time to throw in the towel.

“Charlotte,” she called, voice distorted halfway through the word by a yawn. As she rose to her feet slowly, body creaking in protest, a small tabby came scrambling into the room on three legs. Aurora bent down to scoop up her familiar and carried her down the hall, shouldering open the door to her bedroom, marked by a  _witch's parking only_ sign. When she'd first seen it in the shop, it was the text at the bottom reading 'all others will be  **toad** ' that had her laughing hard enough to actually buy it. Charlotte was placed on the mostly empty dresser top, perching herself between two pillar candles, liquid golden eyes following her witch as she rifled through a suitcase for pajamas.

Preparing herself for bed was a swift process, expedited by sheer exhaustion, and perhaps a touch of laziness. Aurora fell onto her comforter with an audible _oof,_  sinking gratefully into the memory foam mattress beneath. Charlotte launched herself from dresser to bed, and proceeded to whine at her until she snuggled herself beneath the blankets and held them open for the cat, who promptly slid beneath and nestled against her stomach. She reached over to turn her salt lamp off, lying in the dark a moment, contemplating. The move had been a very big decision, but she was convinced it was the right one. This was the perfect place to finish her novel; quiet, boring, and peaceful save for the storm still assailing her windows. And when she finally published it, she’d be chasing her dreams. That’s what her mother wanted her to do - with reckless abandon, to be precise. Packing up shop and moving countries was certainly reckless. Choosing a place called Bleak Falls was probably a little bit reckless too.

What exactly was it that had made her say _ah, yes, this is where I should live?_ It couldn’t have been the very attractive, positive-sounding name. Certainly wasn’t the charming, definitely not a bit too Gothic revival architectural style. Maybe she’d never really understand her choice. All she knew was that as soon as she saw pictures from a tourist in a pub, she was hooked; couldn't shake the town from her thoughts. It was the first place she really considered when she started talking about moving. For some reason, her creative spark simply wasn't fanning itself into a flame back home - and she got it into her head that, for whatever reason, what she needed was a drastic change in scenery. Before she could really think too long and hard about it, her forest eyes were fluttering shut, lids heavy from a long day. The rain continued taking out its anger on the roof and windows of her brand new apartment, lulling her into dreamland with a rhythmic drumming.

When morning came, the rains had gone and sunlight spilled from between the curtains, falling across her face in a golden stripe, brightening the room until she couldn’t stay asleep any longer. Aurora groaned heavily and rolled away from the window, tugging the duvet up over her shoulders. She buried her nose in the fabric and held it tight to her body in an attempt to keep herself warm. She didn’t want to get up. She didn’t want to cross the frozen expanse between her and the bathroom (namely, the rest of her bedroom and the hallway). But an insistent meow sounding from the spot directly in front of the door finally, begrudgingly, motivated her. She couldn’t very well not feed her cat.

To the witch's dismay, she found her own cabinets and fridge empty when she went looking for breakfast after seeing Charlotte's food bowl topped off. A frown tugged at the corners of her lips and she drummed her fingers against the counter. She hadn't counted on needing to do any grocery shopping today but the few things she'd stocked up had apparently gone very quickly. Her gaze flickered briefly to the crisp white pantry door hung on the wall nearby. She had a hunch that she might have a  _gruagach_ lurking. That wasn't necessarily surprising - witches from the British Isles had the worst habit of towing around a household brownie wherever they went, and she'd grown up with one lurking in the kitchen cabinets. Well, she'd simply have to add cream to her shopping list for the day.

* * *

 

“How does somebody accidentally end up at a cemetery walking home? Moron.” 

Aurora hated that she hadn’t explored Bleak Falls enough to be comfortable with the streets yet. It wasn’t that big of a town. It shouldn’t be this hard to navigate from the grocery store (there was only one, after all) to her apartment. Yet here she was, trailing through wrought iron graveyard gates, which stood open, as though beckoning her in. Curiosity and a passion for history propelled her forward, picking her way down a gravel pathway winding between weathered headstones. It wasn't anything like the grand, polished cemeteries she was used to seeing. The fence was rusted here and there, the bars twisted and bent on occasion. The graves weren't lined up neatly, instead choosing to scatter themselves about like rune stones tossed haphazardly onto a table. Every now and again she spotted a mausoleum but they were small in comparison to previous experiences, and not nearly as well kept.

It didn’t seem like this place saw very many visitors. No flowers, no wreaths, no mementos of any kind were decorating the graves. But strangely, there was no overgrowth. If she hadn’t paid close attention to the dates, she might not have even noticed how old this place was. And the graves only got older as she paced further in.

** Died 1886. Died 1886. Died 1880. Died 1879. Died 1257.**

Aurora had to pause and double check that date. It was a huge leap. She inched closer, careful of the actual boundaries of the grave, and leaned in to squint at the headstone. It was only as weathered as the Victorian era markers surrounding it, but the date was clearly meant as the thirteenth century. The name engraved above it was a little faded, but she could make out the surname without difficulty: Laurent. She was by far no expert in American history, but she knew there was no chance a Frenchman who died in the thirteenth century could be buried in a cemetery in Oregon. She cautiously placed her paper grocery bags on the ground at her feet and retrieved her cell phone from her pocket, tapping on the screen as she navigated to the camera. It took several tries to make it focus on the headstone but eventually she got the photo she wanted and spent a couple of seconds staring at it. She'd glance back at the grave as if double checking to be  _sure_ she was still seeing everything correctly. Shaking her head after another couple of minutes, she stowed her phone again and scooped up her groceries. It was time to head home.

As she stepped back onto the meandering path, a figure caught her eye. It was nearly transparent but had the shape of a woman dressed as though it were still the 1920s, her curls styled short. The specter locked gazes with her for a split second, before walking directly into the wall of a mausoleum and vanishing. Aurora stood staring for a couple minutes. She couldn’t quite work out whether or not that had just happened. She approached the mausoleum, reaching a tentative hand out, pressing it against the wall. Solid stone, though it felt... warm. She withdrew her hand quickly and decided to retreat. She hadn't wanted to be here in the first place and she definitely didn't need to start meddling in the paranormal right now. She hadn't even finished moving into her apartment yet, there was no way she was going to chance landing herself a roommate from the great beyond. 

It took her another half an hour to find her way back home, where she stood at the kitchen counter unpacking the bags she carried and thinking. A strange headstone with impossible dates and what she was fairly certain was a spirit encounter - already she could tell that Bleak Falls wouldn’t be as boring as she’d been hoping, and she hated that she didn’t feel disappointed about that. She pursed her lips, leaning against the counter on her elbows and opening her phone, pulling up the photo she’d taken. She studied the dates on the grave marker again. A couple of Google searches for the surname Laurent and the town of Bleak Falls pulled up nothing, so another search was made, for the address and directions to the town’s public library.

Maybe she could find answers there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been in the planning phases since about the summer of last year, and is extremely dear to my heart. It has a long way to go in terms of being polished and prepared to be turned into an actual novel format and I expect a lot to change between this draft and the final product. But I wanted to put this out somewhere anyways, to get some feedback, and share with you the world of Bleak Falls as it is now! Questions and constructive criticism are more than welcome, I would really appreciate anything anyone's got to say.


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